


The Last Hunt

by AQLM



Category: World of Warcraft, frozen throne
Genre: Multi, Original Character(s), POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 18:09:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11110047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AQLM/pseuds/AQLM
Summary: As the Horde and Alliance armies prepare their siege against Arthas, their soldiers are tasked with recruiting every capable warrior to their cause. For the dwarf Gorreth Ironheel and the tauren Telian Redwind, this means a journey to the depths of Un'Goro to find ancient and unwilling allies. And when their hunt succeeds, the true battle begins...Set in The Frozen Throne expansion of World of Warcraft, featuring all original characters.





	1. The Jungle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gorreth Ironheel and Telian Redwind make camp in the depths of the jungle, stalking their hidden prey. Mutual respect and concentrated fire will be required in equal measures to capture their targets.

A bead of sweat trickled down Gorreth Ironheel's forehead, rounded his ear, and made a break for his neck before getting lost in his matted beard. Jungles, he had decided, were the Titans' way of confirming they had loved only the dwarves. Why else would the Makers force the rest of the world to live so far from the glorious rock and towering snow of his home?

The dwarf surveyed the land through the scope of his rifle. A green-hued array of sickly trees spread before him, far too pale to be the stout and vibrant evergreens of Dun Morogh. Here, vine tendrils reached out to throttle a nearby rocky outcropping, which in turn loomed above a bent trunk like a predator about to crush its prey. Water slammed into flowers that defiantly grew through the mud, their brilliant faces soon dimmed by the next onslaught of rain. Everything was violent and crowded. Nothing in the jungle, Gorreth mused, wanted to be there. Himself included.

"Are ve in the right spot," came the hissed, thickly accented, whisper behind him. "I don't see a zing and ve've been out here for hours." 

"We are. This is where she will be." The response was smooth and superior, tinged with the most graceful hint of complete and utter annoyance. "This is the last jungle of its type. It is where she roams."

Gorreth, for his part, shifted his weight to his other knee and rested his gun on the ground. The wolf beside him whined quietly and flicked away yet another bluefly from his ears.

"Poor lad," mumbled Gorreth softly, and ruffled the beast's fur. "Yer as hot as blazes, aren't ya? When we're done, I promise it's nothing but blessed snow and blinding ice for as far as the eye can see." 

The wolf miserably pressed his muzzle into the ground and wagged his tail through the grass. Gorreth wished he could do the same. He batted away some winged annoyance and crushed another into his hair. More proof of dwarven favor. There weren't man-sized bugs in Dun Morogh.

Gorreth brought himself up to standing, hoisted his rifle again, and caught his breath. "We have a problem." 

\---

Telian Redwind swung down her axe and sunk it up to its haft in the ground. She crouched for a moment and breathing heavily, rested her forehead on the handle. A sheen of sweat drenched her shoulders and ran rivulets down her armor, through her fur, and down off her tail. Nearby, a small camp of orcs and trolls was bickering about who had to report to her first. 

"STA...tus," she started to bark, then dropped her voice when she watched the birds fly away at the sound. Stealth. Right. They were there to hunt. No matter that she was as subtle as a kodo with bells on.

"We've not seen the beast yet, Lieutenant General," came the answer from the unfortunate spokesman. "We've seen his prints and caught his scent, but there's been no sign. And," the orc gestured westward, "they showed up about four hours ago." 

The massive Tauren stood again and turned. The crowded Alliance camp stared back, warily. 

"What should we do, Lieutenant General?" The orc inched away, but not quickly enough.  
Telian backhanded the orc and sent him flying into the camp. "You let them stand there, watching you, for four hours and now you're asking me? Show sense!"

"We each know why we're here." She nodded her head at the lithe night elf behind a stout and sweating dwarf. The elf, in turn, bowed back. "There's no point in starting a war over it. Not right now."

\---

Gorreth forced his vision through the rifle sights, away from the tense stand-off, and focused. Out of the corner of his eye, a shadow flickered then vanished. The hunting thrill ran up his spine. He began to creep forward, crawling to thicker cover. There, the shadow again, larger and closer. He raised a hand and heard the rest of the team grow ready. He pulled himself behind a moss-choked rock and held his breath.

A massive bear lumbered into view, chestnut fur gleaming sleekly in the little light that pierced the forest canopy. It swung its head from side to side, testing the air around it, then moved forward again. Gorreth had never seen one that large or that beautiful and, for a moment, felt a pang of shame about what he was about to do. He uttered a small prayer to Eonar and pulled the trigger.

He was suddenly knocked on his back, his gun thrown half a length behind him. Gorreth cursed and reached for his knife, but a long pale brown muzzle full of glinting teeth sank itself into his shoulder. 

"Irdrifaaarrrr," he yelled and attempted to pry himself loose from a second bear. The dwarf had an all too close view of the gracefully curving horns that jutted from amber-colored fur; horns that, at the moment, the bear was threatening to plunge into his chest. The chestnut bear turned and let out a fearsome growl. 

"Fire. FIRE. What in Cairne's name are you waiting for you imbeciles?" Telian grabbed her axe and charged down the hill towards the brawling beasts, a rain of arrow finally following her as she ran into the fray. Oh Great Earthmother, she scowled, why must your children be like this?

A tight-packed ball of howling white fur hurled itself at Gorreth, distracting his attackers long enough for the dwarf to tear his arm back and stumble back grab his gun. The air around him crackled as he fled up the hill and dove to the ground, letting Idrifar's arc of lightning shoot over him and strike the beasts below. He heard the shaman let loose another bolt, then yell for help when the darker bear ran towards him.

Telian stomped the earth with a mighty roar and swung her axe at the tawny bear. The bear had finished goring the wolf and turned its bulk towards the warrior. Claws met armor with a shriek of sparks, while the axe found flesh and scored the bear's flank. It let off a horrifying howl and slammed to the earth. The bear chasing Idrifar suddenly turned and leapt down the hill, knocking down the Tauren and grappling her away from its mate.

Damn it to the Nether, Gorreth cursed. This is going all to pieces. His arm dangled limply from its socket, though the pain had eased now that the night elf was applying moonlight to it...or whatever it was that Doraniel did. Irdrifar pulled what was left of Gorreth's wolf back up the hill and applied healing salve to its wounds while the hapless Horde tried to pull two snarling bears off their captain. 

The dwarf didn't like that one bit. This was his hunt and, by the Titans, he was not going to let the Horde have all of it. Thanks to the night elf, his arm worked well enough that he picked up his weapon again and ran back down towards the writhing mass of fur and angry faces. 

"No. NO," yelled Doraniel frantically. "ALIVE. We need her ALIVE."

"To the Nether with your bleeding alive," he shouted. "Does she look like she wants to be taken alive? We're going to solve this the Dwarven way. With bullets." Crazy peace-loving elves. More things not in Dun Morogh.

Telian flung the tawny bear back and barely dodged another massive chestnut paw. Her axe was long since discarded and her armor in shreds. She heard a chorus of rifle shots ring out and, mentally praising the dwarf's aim...a first time for everything... watched the darker bear once again shift its rage towards the Alliance encampment. Now, she and her bleeding opponent circled each other. 

"This ends," she raged at the bear. "Enough." 

It snarled and twitched forward, but did not strike. 

Gorreth did not have time to cheer his success as four times his weight in angry bear now sat on his prone form. As he struggled to breathe, he watched a raised claw swipe down at him, only to graze his face gently as a stunned night elf toppled off his chest to the ground. An apologetic-looking human helped Gorreth up. 

"Harold...where...have....you... been," huffed Gorreth. 

The human put away his blackjack and shrugged, "Well, you see..." and gestured to the Horde camp. A slim, flushed elf was straightening her clothes and gave a wicked smile back at the human. "We've been here for four hours..."

A wreath of fire sprang up around Telian and the bear. Well, Illiala's back, she grumbled to herself. The elf's voice rang from behind the two of them. "So sorry, Captain. I've been a bit detained. Have I missed all the fun?"

Telian ignored her and knelt in front of the resigned-looking animal. "It can only end like this. Fire and blood. Walk out with me or be carried across my back like a prize." The tawny bear sighed reared up, stretching paws and shaggy fur into a tired-looking Tauren. 

"Very well, Captain. I will come."

Gorreth poked the naked night elf with his toe and lamely shot the tranquilizer into her unconscious body. Druids, he thought. No druids in Dun Morogh, either.


	2. Capital Cities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Among the leaves of Darnassus and the towering cliffs of Thunder Bluff, Gorreth and Telian confront their quarry. If they thought capturing the druids had been difficult, they will find convincing them to face Arthas far more challenging.

At the suggestion of Doraniel, the group had kept the druid sedated for the journey back to Darnassus. It had seemed like a reasonable and sound idea. The magic would slow her bodily functions, heal her wounds, and keep her from escaping into the contested lands between the jungle and Nordrassil. A good idea, of course, until she actually woke up in the capital city, disoriented, famished, and angry. 

The last hour had been spent attempting to keep the building from being torn down as the furious druid lobbed insults, screamed questions, and hurled objects. The lingering sedative kept her from regaining her bear's shape, so she made do with causing roots to spring forth from the walls or setting the bedclothes alight with arcane flame. Gorreth had managed to dive behind a screen and had hidden there with his wolf while Harold had cloaked himself in the shadows and was nowhere to be found.

"Aramathaeila, please listen," beseeched Doraniel as a chair splintered to the left of his head. "Osa for shalan do..."

"Osa alah ni O thera su fulo nor su dor'ano do andu," the woman growled, then pointed at Idrifar, who was hacking away at a table that had pinned him to the wall. "Ash diel O no ishnu'ri diel shari Eredar o terro?"

The group had been joined by another female night elf, Rinel, whose main job had been to try and extricate herself from the room long enough to fetch their captain. Having failed, she was using the closet door as an impromptu shield and was translating for the others. 

"She's asking why she was brought back here since she was promised she wouldn't have to fight anymore. She's also...oof," the elf staggered back as the shield blocked another chair. "She's also wondering why there's an Eredar here and why we aren't helping her kill him."

"Have you explained zat I am not an Eredar," called Idrifar, who, having freed himself, was now attempting to put out the various fires the druid had set. 

"You see, ze Dranaei and ze Eredar are related, yes? But different." He grew a totem out of the floorboards and coaxed the water spirit within to begin dousing the flames. "Ve both started on Argus..." 

"She doesn't seem to be much in the mood for alien genealogy," said Rinel. The door had shattered and she stood face to face with the enraged druid, who let out another torrent of Darnassian and lunged. Rinel lithely bounced out of the way and, sensing an opportunity, swung out a window and took off in a sprint. "I'll go tell the Captain she's awake."

The druid slammed into the wall and leapt back up, cursing, or so Gorreth guessed, towards the fleeing elf. She turned around and, for the first time since she'd awoken, tore back the screen. Gorreth flinched, then froze. The wolf growled beside him, but Gorreth shushed him down. No sense in making things worse. 

For a moment, the two contemplated each other. He'd not really gotten much of a look at her in the time they'd met. Gentlemanly modesty, as well as genuine fear, had kept him from even glancing at her sleeping form. Now, her eerie green eyes met his. He wondered, for a moment, if a night elf had ever looked so...strange to him before. Her features were sharper and more angular than those of any other he'd seen. She seemed taller, more raw. More...he fumbled for the word. Primitive. 

She bent close to him and, with a long, pale purple hand, pushed into his shoulder. She stood up and backed away, thoughtful for a moment. 

"Mush'al?" 

She clicked something in the back of her throat and Gorreth's wolf leapt up, panting, then bounded over to her, a pouch full of Gorreth's rations suddenly in his mouth. 

"Hey, hang on..." started Gorreth, but everyone in the room, including the wolf, glared at him.

Aramathaeila sat down on the ruined bed and gently stroked the wolf, who had flopped happily beside her. She opened the rations, pulled out a piece of nameless raptor jerky, and chewed thoughtfully, handing another piece to the wolf. "Doraniel, or shan Mush'al furo ish shiel?" 

Doraniel walked forward, relief on his face. "Shan Mush'al, shiel su dor'ano furin sansho." 

"Mush'al. Hrm." She idly ran her fingers through her dark blue hair and gazed at the window. "Things are that bad, are they?"

"Wait, did she just speak Common," said Gorreth with a look of confusion. "If she could do that, why have we been ‘fan-do shalor’-ing for the past hour?"

"Only because I am here, good Ironheel. I am so sorry for the delay." Jaelyne Evensong, the exalted champion of Darnassus, strode into the room, Rinel two steps behind her. She held up a small orb between her hands. "The Priestess has imbued me with the Goddess' magic, that we may all communicate more easily."

The champion stood at the foot of the bed and regarded the druid who, to everyone's surprise, bowed on one knee in a gesture of respect. "Hail. Your bearing and armor mark you Captain. Is it on your orders that I am stripped from my rest?"

"Rise, sister, and be counted. Your people break their oath to you again, but only in their peril and fear. Be good to us and listen, so you may bring the Goddess' vengeance upon our foes."

Aramathaeila let out a snort and turned away. "Upon your foes, child-Captain. My foes are long since dead. But I will hear your plea if the need is so great that the Mu'shal have risen to fight with us again."

As the Captain began the horrible story of Arthas, Gorreth waved over the other female elf.

"Rinel," hissed Gorreth, "what is a Mu'shal?"

"You," she said with some wonderment. "It's a very old term for you. By the trees, I didn't know she had lived that long."

"Who...me," blinked Gorreth. "She knows what a dwarf is, then?"

"No, not...well...yes. But," Rinel sighed. "Mu'shal. It's the polite term for dwarf, but not any dwarf. An Earthen. She thinks you're an Earthen. One she hasn't seen in...

The two of them stared at the intense conversation between druid and the Captain. "Ten thousand years." he whispered.

\---

Hyrel dangled his legs over the side of Thunder Bluff and looked up at the stars. He had been within the jungle for so long that the brilliant expanse was unfamiliar and vaguely threatening. Had there always been that many points of glittering light? 

Telian walked to his side and warily sat down. She'd seen enough luckless interlopers get thrown, literally, out of the city that she wasn't quite comfortable with the edges of the cliffs. He ignored her. She cleared her throat and began, conversationally, "So you see? Your people have a home now. We need you to protect it."

The elder Tauren laughed uproariously, the earth beneath him roiling in sympathy as his peals rang out across the evening. 

"Oh, yes, I am sure that your success in saving your precious home very much hinges on an aging druid. All I need to do is drop dead from exhaustion in front of the Citadel and your wonderful Leech King will trip on me on the way to make water, allowing you to put an axe in his head." 

"Hyrel," she glowered. "It's LICH king. Arthas isn't some blasted water worm."

"Oh, I know," he exclaimed, still laughing. "Perhaps I'll inspire the armies to greatness as I awaken each morning, too sore to get up without an hour of huffing and puffing. Or maybe I'll show them my prowess at seducing young..."

"Grandfather. Enough." Telian's eyes smoldered dangerously. "Chief Bloodhoof asked us to find every able warrior we could. I have a fresh wound that shows just how able you are. Please, Grandfather."

Hyrel returned his gaze to the suddenly-less-frightening stars. "I am sorry, little one. The affairs of the Tauren are so much not my own. And I am old. And I am tired. But yes, you have asked me, and I will fight for you. I told you that already. Now, ask the question you actually want to ask."

Telian swallowed hard. "Did...you know that the oth...that the bear...that she..."

"Did I know that my bear-mate was a Night Elf? Hmph." He blew air shortly out of his nose and lifted his arms, palms up. "The better question, I think, is did I know I was a Tauren?"


	3. Transit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gorreth takes the time to talk to Aram'il, a brief interlude before their siege on Icecrown. He learns of her past and his, learns what it means to be a bear and a hunter.

They had booked passage on a small shipping vessel that ran from Auberdine to Northrend rather than trying to get to the common transports from the Eastern Kingdoms. Gorreth sat out on the deck near Aram'il, as she preferred to be called, watching her glower out from a trade route's worth of furs to keep warm. He longed to make conversation with the strange druid, to ask her about his ancestors and the great war they had fought, but couldn't find a place to begin. 

Rinel had some luck attempting to learn from Aram'il, but the conversations always ended with one or the other swearing enough to blanche the sailors and storming off. The way Rinel explained it, Aram'il's current life was a series of insults to her culture and sensibilities. From fighting against their former Tauren allies, to the freeing of the Betrayer, to the sacrifice of the World Tree, to the slaughter of Malygos, there was not one familiar aspect of her life that the current Kaldorei leadership had not profaned. Allying themselves with pale-skins and Eredar-kin was just more of the same. 

If anything, Rinel confided, Gorreth was probably the least offensive thing on the boat right now. That troubled him. But, he supposed, it was an in-road.

He hopped off the barrel he'd been warming and approached the druid with trepidation. She was leaning her head glumly on the railing and whispering something. The glimmer of Elune's light around her neck let him hear that she was, in fact, singing softly. 

"The sea...the sea. The sea...the sea. Wash up and drown our mistakes again, you blasted idiots. Crush our follies beneath the waves and hide them from our eyes so we can pretend, you morons, that this was how it is supposed to be." Gorreth paused and guessed it sounded nicer in the original Darnassian. That, or Aram'il was improvising some of her true feelings into a sailor's lament.

"Yes, little one,” she said, not turning his head at his approach.

"I...um...er...druids. I want to know about druids." Gorreth stammered. No, he didn't, but apparently, that's what he was going to ask about. "I've met some before but none who lived...you know..."

She stood up and shook off one layer of fur and gripped the railing. "For as long as I did? Most have. Most do. The cubs and kittens in your Alliance are a small fraction of our number. The rest have their long sleep to attend to," she snorted derisively.

"I have met, um, a servant of the Dreamer," Gorreth said hopefully. 

"Ah yes, the Dreamer. Ysera. That tart. We were all bound to her, after Shan'do Stormrage," she bent her head slightly, "made our compact with the Dragonflights. We took on his teachings, the wisdom of Cenarius, and the mantle of the Dreamer. We were bound to the World Tree and would enter the Emerald Dream for all eternity."

She sighed. "But...I didn't want to spend the rest of my life roaming through a constantly changing otherworldly paradise populated primarily by young Kaldorei males whose whims made our shared sleep very," she rolled her eyes, "well-endowed. After we were recalled to fight yet another troll incursion or another, I forsook my calling. I shunned the Emerald Dream and everything it gave me and..."

She paused and looked over the railing. "I gave myself over to the beast. I became the bear to escape being not-the-bear. It is hard to explain. The bear's way is simple. You rise to hunt; you sleep to hunt once more. There are no expectations, politics, or graces. There is no terrible war that strips away your kinsfolk to the bottom of the ocean or drops them in their prime at the point of heathen spears. There is no you. There is just the bear. And sometimes," she smiled gently, "there is another bear. But not too often or else it gets boring."

Gorreth nodded, thoroughly confused. Progress, he thought. At least they were talking. Maybe he'd remember to ask about the Earthen next time.


	4. The Siege of Icecrown Citadel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Alliance and Horde have stormed Arthas' stronghold and fight their way up the towers to the Frozen Throne. There within the halls, the two armies collide in a bitter grudge match. Aram'il, Hyrel, Gorreth, and Telian must confront one another as enemies and show where their loyalties lay.

The generals called for another push and the Horde around Telian surged forward up the Citadel. They had broken past the first gates and were storming the great halls of Icecrown, the rush of blood, armor, and magic swirling their foes into a storm of bone and rancid flesh. The resistance had been just as relentless; for every thousand minions they slew, another fresh regiment rose up against them. Yet this was her Horde, roared Telian, and they would rule this day. 

She caught sight of her grandfather plowing through a row of rotting corpses, a gigantic paw crushing the filth beneath him as he rammed, head first, into another zombie gut. There had been no time for the general pleasantries that welcomed fresh recruits when they landed in Northrend. No killing of gorlocs or hunting of yetis to acclimate him to his new kindred. Merely a benediction from one of the priests and a call of "Blood and Thunder!" as they threw him into the fray. All things considered, he was doing wonderfully. 

He had not blinked when she introduced her co-leader, a shambling corpse with a sword and a shield. He politely greeted Darkspear Trolls who, at some time or another, he had tried to kill or who had hunted him and his kin. Even when looking with bafflement at the tiny elf who danced with a demon, raining fire around them with perverse glee, he had said nothing. 

There was a moment, though, when they were making their last preparations. A death knight who bore a Tauren's shape made his way to greet Hyrel. The druid had looked at the outstretched palm with confusion and pity. "Shall I send you to our ancestors, brother? You are far too well clad to be buried in our earth." 

The Death Knight had stormed away, leaving Hyrel standing, turning over his own hand. At last he had said, "I do not think I understand your Horde, granddaughter. "

\----

It was halfway up the ramparts that the Horde and Alliance armies came together. Just as viciously as they had fought the abominations below, their energies were spent pummeling one another to gain the honor of continuing above. 

"This is pointless," yelled Doraniel. "Why are we fighting the Horde? Is not Arthas the true threat? This is...mph." A spell stole his voice and he dropped to the ground, choking.

Gorreth didn't care much who he was fighting. He and his wolf moved with the other hunters. The legion of lovely bow-women sent from Darnassus and the Exodar surrounded him and his rifle sang the glories he'd only heard around boyhood campfires. This, he knew, this was all he was meant to be, here among his allies to crush all who opposed them. He felt the dark brown fur beside him stand on end and heard the rushing roar as Aram'il charged forth to meet Hyrel in the throes of battle.

The massive bears tore at each other's flesh and blood soon oozed from their many wounds. They tumbled to the side, slashing and tearing as frantic healers called upon whatever god would listen to bind their wounds. Curious thing, Gorreth noted. The bears' wounds were healing and staying quite healed, even as they continued to fight. Telian too noticed that they were taking surprisingly minor damage for the ferocity of their battle and that, for some reason, neither was showing their claws anymore.

The raging hosts surged forward, all but emptying the corridor the fighters pressed into another great hall and waited for reinforcements. Soon, the ramparts contained just two sham-fighting bears, a blood-drenched dwarf, and a Tauren holding a war-axe. 

Noting their audience had lessened, the bears stopped and slumped to the floor. Aram'il shifted back into her elven form and lay panting on Hyrel's flank. The remaining bear's sides rose and sank at an alarming pace. They both closed their eyes and tried to catch their breath.

Gorreth and Telian cautiously approached each other and the druids. The wolf wound his way around Gorreth's legs and barked at the Tauren, who smashed the ground and yelled. She charged and Gorreth let fly two shots that slammed into her armor. Their bodies collided and were pinned to the ground, each by a furious druid. 

Hyrel leaned his weight down on Gorreth's neck and gestured with his head towards the struggling Tauren. He shifted himself back from being a bear and spoke. "My granddaughter. A result of my youthful indiscretions." 

Aram'il bent down and studied Telian's face for a moment, never releasing the pressure she kept on the girl's body. "She is lovely."

Simultaneously, the druids released their captives and stepped back, letting the dwarf and Tauren claw at their throats and gasp for air. The wolf whined piteously and slunk behind a corner.

Aram'il sighed and shook her head. "Very well, old love. One last hunt?"

"Indeed."

The male druid retook his bear's shape and bounded down the hallway towards the clashing armies. The female paused a moment and, taking the Elune-stone from around her neck, threw it in front of confused soldiers. 

"Decide who you shall kill today, children. I suggest the greater threat." Then, she too shifted and chased down her companion to rejoin the fray.

Gorreth and Telian eyed each other warily. Gorreth lifted the stone and dangled it from his finger-tips.

"Not a word?"

"By the Warchief, I am bound."


	5. The Hunt Concludes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A return to the jungle and the druids who inhabit it. Where all searches begin and end.

Gorreth Ironheel stood in the jungle, resting on his rifle. His remaining eye scanned the trees and searched for hints of movement. It was harder now to survey the land with half of his sight gone, but all who had pitied his near-blinding could not disagree with his logic: he had lost his eye, but gained Arthas' head. As trades go, shrugged Gorreth, there were far worse. 

He had not seen the Lich King fall. His regiment, decimated by one of Arthas' lieutenants, had held the line while his brothers and sisters, Horde or Alliance, pressed the attack. Someone knew who had struck the killing blow, but no one who mattered, no one who was in that forsaken hole, cared. All soldiers took their victory in whatever form it came, cheered the nameless heroes, and began to count their dead. 

His small band returned each to their peoples, save Irdrifar, who had joined his ancestors to sleep beneath the world. They brought the shaman's body to Nagrand and called his name to the spirits, that they might carry him home on their whirling winds. Then Gorreth attempted a soldier's life in Ironforge and found to his surprise that the taste of steel had grown bitter. Like most brews, it had become unpalatable when he had been forced to drink so deeply and so quickly. 

He had come to the jungle seeking something he could not name. He had met the Earthen and their Vykrul opponents. He had flown over the Maker’s terrace and wondered at the ancient site of his people’s birth. He had buried his wolf under the trees of the Grizzly Hills, unable to bear the grief of bringing his body back to Dun Morogh. He had walked his way across the continent and back again, but a restlessness still gripped his heart. Maybe she could give the answers, show him what was left after the last hunt stole his purpose. 

\--

Illiala bore Telian's axe to the jungle and gently lay it upon the ground. The Tauren's pyre no longer smoldered beneath the shadow of Thunder Bluff where the ancient Chieftain had written her name alongside the thousands who had come before her. Her ashes had been scattered across Mulgore, soft fragments that clung to the hair of the attendants and coated Illiala with the scent of burning death. Telian’s last breath had bequeathed her axe to her grandfather, then expired in a cloud of frost and blood. Thus, the elf came to the jungle, waiting for Hyrel to make his appearance and grieve the last of his lineage. 

The druids had not fallen at the great battle, yet no one had seen them leave. There were some who called those ancient bears Lor'skheen, spirit warriors sent by the gods to fight in times of need. Others called them cowards, for they had clearly deserted the armies as they marched on Icecrown. Telian, to her death, had known only this: That they came when called to fight a battle they did not understand with allies they despised. That they pushed their way into the far reaches of Arthas’ palace with ancient ferocity and tired strength. That, perhaps, they found Icecrown simply not great enough to mark their last hunt together and returned to the jungle where their destinies entwined. 

Gorreth watched the birds fly overhead and sat down. I have time to wait, he thought. The lass is pretty enough. If they're not here, we'll go home. And if they are, well, that in and of itself will be a story. He tapped the earth next to him and waved the elf over with a polite nod.

Illiala shrugged and took her place beside him. Unlike most Blood Elves, she remembered being Quel’dorei. She fondly recalled the kinship between her people and the dwarves. Dwarves weren't the comeliest race but, then again, there is something to be said about non-pretty men. She snorted. Yes, even sitting in a sweating jungle with a scarred dwarf was preferable to prancing around Silvermoon wondering when her people would be restored to glory.

So there they sat. A dwarf and a Blood Elf, waiting for a Tauren and a Night Elf, in the last jungle in the world.


End file.
